


weight of the world (feels like nothing)

by KelseyO



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, i just started watching the thing, so don't mind me as i write fics a season and a half late, takes place during 1x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s never really been one to lash out, but right now she’s exhausted and furious and REALLY in the mood to hit something and this stupid hunk of metal has her mother’s voice, and this is just not the kind of night where a few deep breaths will be able to fix everything.</p>
<p>“I’m DONE talking to you,” she shouts, though most of her volume is swallowed up by the lump in her throat, and whacks the radio a few times until it crackles and then goes silent. Now it’s just her and this stupid room full of stupid not-medical-supplies and the stupid boy she shouldn’t have trusted and his stupid blood staining her shirt—</p>
<p>“Hey, I worked hard to put that thing together.”</p>
<p>(The scene I would've liked to see after Clarke told her mother she knew the truth. Don't spoil anything if you leave a comment, pls.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	weight of the world (feels like nothing)

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching the thing two days ago and now I'm eight episodes in and my emotions are not happy with me at all but OCTAVIA BLAKE and RAVEN REYES so it's fine. Title from "On the Way Down" by Ryan Cabrera, for no particular reason. This is my first 100 fic so god knows it's probably shit. Feedback is appreciated!

She’s never really been one to lash out—her parents raised her to be even-tempered, and her daily life in the more “privileged” section of the Arc had always been too stable to stir up any anger or frustration—but right now she’s exhausted and furious and _really_ in the mood to hit something and this stupid hunk of metal has her mother’s voice, and this is just not the kind of night where a few deep breaths will be able to fix everything.

“I’m _done_ talking to you,” she shouts, though most of her volume is swallowed up by the lump in her throat, and whacks the radio a few times until it crackles and then goes silent. Now it’s just her and this stupid room full of stupid not-medical-supplies and the stupid boy she shouldn’t have trusted and his stupid blood staining her shirt—

“Hey, I worked hard to put that thing together.”

Her head snaps up at Raven’s soft voice behind her and she glances over her shoulder to see Raven setting a few units of water by Finn’s makeshift operating table, but then her eyes are on _Clarke_ and she quickly returns to staring at the mess of machine parts in front of her, attempting to suck in gulps of oxygen as her trembling fingers tighten around the edge of the cold, hard tabletop in front of her. “Sorry,” she chokes out, clearing her throat as she shoves away from the table and wanders a few feet until suddenly she’s standing beside Raven’s bed; it’s probably the last place she should end up, but her knees are about to buckle so she lets herself collapse onto the mattress, elbows resting on her thighs as she buries her face in her hands and then pushes her hair out of her eyes. “I—thank you, for—” She gestures vaguely toward the radio before wiping her nose with the back of her palm.

There’s a few beats of silence and Clarke wonders if Raven’s glaring at her again, or maybe just throwing another longing glance at Finn, but then the mattress dips beside her and she looks up through bleary eyes to watch Raven take a sip of water.

“Don’t mention it,” Raven says after she swallows, then holds out the container. “You want some?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, I’m—I’m fine,” she manages between ragged breaths.

“Yeah,” Raven deadpans, “I can see that.”

“Look, whatever you think you—”

“It sucks,” she interrupts gently, and Clarke makes herself look up again. “I heard you talking to your mom, and all of that stuff… it sucks. And I’m sorry I’ve been harping on her awesomeness, or whatever. That must’ve made it suck even harder.”

Clarke’s bottom lip is wobbling again and she tries to sniff back another wave of tears, but they sneak out anyways and she hangs her head on the off-chance that Raven won’t notice the wetness on her cheeks. She’s so busy trying to breathe that she almost doesn’t feel the hand on her back, and when it starts moving back and forth she almost flinches because the last person to touch her in a way that meant anything was Finn, but the sobs drifting up her throat don’t really care about who’s doing it, only that she’s so _tired_ and it feels so _good_ , and eventually she finds herself slumping against Raven’s shoulder.

The hand between her shoulder blades becomes an arm around her back, and as confusing as it is to suddenly be this close to Raven’s heartbeat, she doesn’t have the energy to wonder what’s happening.

“You kicked ass tonight,” Raven says quietly as Clarke cries into her shirt. “Thank you for saving Finn’s life. And for the record, I’m really sorry that things happened the way they did.”

Clarke shrugs. “I mean, what’s the fun in saving a life if you can’t torture someone in the process?” she chokes out.

“That’s not what I was talking about,” she says after a beat, and Clarke stiffens just a little. “I meant with… y’know. All of this,” she continues, gesturing between them and Finn with her free hand. “It’s not your fault he didn’t tell you about me. And honestly? You’re _really_ cool, and brave, and stuff.” She sighs, almost like this is a weight off her shoulders. “Clarke, we’re lucky to have you.”

“Finn’s lucky to have _you_ ,” Clarke mumbles without really meaning to.

“He’s lucky to have _us_ ,” Raven corrects, then grabs her container from the ground. “Now drink some damn water—we do _not_ need anyone else passing out today.”

Clarke sniffs and wipes away as much of the moisture from her cheeks as she can before she forces herself to sit up, and her hand isn’t shaking as much anymore as she accepts the container and takes several greedy sips, and her lungs are heaving by the time she finishes.

“Attagirl.”

Clarke hands the water back to Raven and fiddles with the watch on her wrist. “Thank you,” she murmurs thickly, “for all of that.” She takes a deep, steadying breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so—”

“Don’t mention it.”

They take another swig of water each as Finn groans in is sleep.

“You know,” Raven says thoughtfully, “I do have to give him some credit.” She gets to her feet and leans over Finn slightly, brushing her fingertips along his jaw before heading toward the tent’s opening. “He has really good taste in girls.”


End file.
